


Deathwish

by neunundneunzig



Category: Exquisite Corpse - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Alternate Ending, Autonecrophilia, Blood and Gore, Deathfic, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Necrophilia, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/neunundneunzig
Summary: Andrew is killed at the end rather than Jay. Jay decides to take advantage of his passing.





	Deathwish

**Author's Note:**

> Caution. Work contains necrophilia (Peri and Postmortem), death, violence, HIV references, and anything you're likely accustomed to if you're reading Exquisite Corpse fanfiction.

In the cool, terrible light of the slave’s quarter, which gave glimmer to the sleek blood coating the two men, Luke finally recognized the other. It was Andrew Compton. He couldn’t believe himself for a moment, of all the things he was witnessing, this one stopped him. As if his mind chose the smallest fact in the room, somehow the most easy to comprehend, and focused on that one.

Huh, he thought, Weekly World News was right. Famed serial killed Andrew Compton never died of AIDS, but faked his way out of the hospital and fled to America. 

It gave context to everything else he was seeing. Everything else being the grey and ruby red pile of matter that used to be Tran. 

As Jay approached fast, Luke lunged forward on pure instinct, towards Andrew. He knocked him down, sliding the straight razor from his boot along the man’s throat. For a moment, he was sure he hadn’t cut deep enough. He’d fucked up, and any second now Jay would bury an axe in his head. If he was lucky, he’d die then, and not see a prolonged death more painful than the one he was already going through.

Then the wound opened, and Andrew’s neck burst open, showering Luke in his sticky blood. His head fell back, and his face froze in an image of pure ecstasy.

* * *

The blade sliced my neck, and the shock of it gripped me. I had accepted my death a very long time ago. I accepted death as a fact more true, more sure and more profound than life had ever proven to be. But I did not expect now, as my lover and I were taking our communion from the body of the most perfect victim, that my own personal death would come crashing through the window. I saw my blood pour across his face. I wished the facilities to move so that I could lick it from the stranger, have him kiss my blood to me. 

It was clear that the man had no need to fear my blood. His own face was gaunt and sickly, far worse than myself. He stumbled back, staring at me. I smiled to him. I didn’t want to see any shock on his face. If I was going to die now, my killer should at least enjoy it. 

Jay shoved him back and cupped my wound for a moment, looking me in the eyes. Then, he rolled on top of me, eyes wild, and began to strangle me. Pleasure wracked through my body. If he had tried to save my life now, tried to rob me of my death, I’m not sure if I would have died loving him.

He dipped his head, not taking any mind of the other man, who clung to his razor, staring at the display with a growing interest.

I wondered if he'd killed before. He seemed virginal to it. I hope to think it was as good for him as it was for me. I imagined being treated like my boys back when. Him taking me and stripping, bathing, powdering, and laying me out. Watching my still, perfect body, and then taking advantage, poisoning my corpse with his vile blood while he still had life. But I didn't want that from him. No. I wanted it from Jay. 

I almost mouthed out a word to Jay. I would have probably let him know how much I loved him in this moment. When I moved my lips, Jay grabbed my bottom one between his teeth and tore, ripping it from my face. It was an incomplete separation, the mutilated gore dangling off my jaw, gums gleaming with blood.

Jay growled and gnawed at it desperately. I could feel a slow fade. I took a breath, lowering my heart rate. I would die tonight. But I wanted to stay just close enough to myself to have my lover again. Jay pulled back, a sliver of my skin wedged in his teeth. He turned to the other man.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“...You killed Tran. You… look at him! It’s hardly even a body.”

My lover gave a lazy, lopsided smile, “It’s absolutely a body. It’s all the parts that make him up. You loved him, didn’t you? He died screaming.”

Jay and I both knew this to be a lie. Tran, in all his beauty, had fallen into a sweet, dreamlike lull before his death. I sucked him off again, then sliced his cock until it was mangled. His blood still lingered in my mouth, his gorgeous flesh stalled in my throat. I wondered if the other man would like to retrieve it from the gash he made.

“Are you going to kill me?” He sighed softly, no hint of fear left.

Jay stared, “Luke, is it?”

“You know my name.”

Jay hummed, “I’m sure you’d love a quick death. Are you going to go to the police? I’ll buy them again. You, no, you don’t get to die with my Andrew and our victim. You get to rot in your own fucking blood.”

“He’s still breathing.” Luke whispered softly.

I was. And right now, I had remarkable respect for Andrew. He had wisened up somewhat. He wasn’t so consumed by his desires that he was unreasonable. No, now he knew when to stop. But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to finish me.

Jay looked down at me, eyes clouding in lust. He started biting at my chest, ripping off my nipple and groaning as he swallowed it. His hips started to buck against me, and he kissed the wound in my throat, a new, wider mouth. An exhale wheezed out from my lungs, spraying bits of blood on him, continuing to paint him with myself. He sealed his lips to the wound and sucked as though he needed to drink in my last breaths. But I had control over my body. It was going to take some time.

He slid his tongue in, tracing my esophagus. Then he pulled off and licked at my teeth. He muttered against my skin, “I'm going to eat you, don't worry. I'm going to make a shrine to you, kiss your bones.”

He wallowed in me, ripping my body open and putting his hands and his mouth everywhere he could manage. He was forceful but slow. His erection was bare, it would hurt me if he dared try to put anything between us. There was a sweetness in his brutality. There was love, stronger than any attraction I'd ever felt. This was the high I sought when I killed my boys. It was here now. I wished for the strength to wrap my legs up around him, for the lips to kiss his face, but I was fading. 

He couldn't ever say he loved me, but now, with my life draining, and him still rocking in to my corpse, I felt loved and cherished. He spilled into me, and I spilled into him. He sucked at my windpipe as the last breath rattled out, and I knew I would be his forever.


End file.
